Sight, Smell, Taste, Touch, Sound

I wrote down the following journal entry as I was sitting by myself in a park next to the Danube during St. Stephen’s day. I liked what I wrote, so I decided to share it here.

Sight: The boardwalk in crammed on both sides with locals and tourists alike. Street vendors with food, beer, drinks, and crafts have people crowding to test their goods. Stages are up every 500m or so with children and young adults singing and playing traditional Hungarian music. Women are in tight summer clothing that plunges below the neck, rises above the navel, and invites scrutiny with a minimum coverage of the waste. Men are fashionable-casual in sandals, trendy sunglasses, gelled-up hair and t-shirts. The buildings on both sides of the Danube display the 19th century architecture. Churches, university, palace, hotels, administrative, towering spires.

There are biplanes doing tricks above me and military craft draped with proud Hungarian slogans prowling the Danube. The police/military are minimally present and the crowd appears relaxed but its only 13:40. A large jumbotron screen is counting down to 15:00 but I don’t know what happens then.

Smell: Sitting in the park I smell fresh grass and suntan lotion. The breeze carries in hints of something smoky. Walking along the boardwalk is like getting a different scent from each item in a large Las Vegas buffet with each step. My olfactory senses are assaulted by bubbling curried chicken stew, frying sausages, paprika-encrusted potatoes, cinnamon-coated sweet bread, and pizza being baked in portable earthen wood-fired ovens.

Taste: The food is bold and complex. Potatoes are heavily dosed with paprika and salt. In a one meter wide pan they simmer until tender. They are served with a chicken/onion goulash/stew. This stew’s base is a rich and creamy sauce with too many flavors to isolate. Garlic, salty cheese, curry, yogurt, oil and pepper are in abundance. The sausage appears mild and the pizza hot and heavy on the bread.

Touch: Its probably 80 degrees but the sun is oppressive. With a likely 70% humidity is is difficult to get dry after the sweat starts but when a cloud passes overhead it is like my current position under a canopy of this park’s trees. Mild and comfortable. A occasional zephyr provides welcome relief and makes the temperature a joy.

Sound: In the distance I hear the pervasive beats of light trance from the Red Bull tent. Beyond that I hear a high-school band with their unamplified but Stentorian orchestra. The music sounds like German symphony but I believe it to be Hungarian on this special day. Still further down are children singing in a chorus of what I gather from the proud and patriotic onlookers might be the Hungarian national anthem. The planes overhead provide their propeller’s dopplered wail and the watercraft drone by slowly. But the destrozer hits his horn and the bass echoes of the fascade of my multi-centuried surroundings. Children are squealing, people are laughing, lovers under the trees are quietly whispering to each other. I am quiet.